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"The nighttime is the right time," - Nappy Brown
I stood silently in the quiet of the night, letting my eyes adjust to the change in brightness I had created by flipping a switch for the outside lights.
In only a moment or so, I began to hear the somewhat familiar flapping sound of moths twirling and circling around the light fixtures - flying in from the surrounding woodlands and the open expanse above the backyard.
Moths gather at artificial lights in confusion and attempt to orient themselves properly in relation to the brightness. Incredibly, in darkness moths use the light from stars, the moon and distant planets to keep themselves properly aligned with the horizon.
I think moths are under appreciated.
Like butterflies, their colors and wing patterns are beautiful to see. I'm particularly fascinated by how well these colors and patterns help hide moths from predators.
Moth species far outnumber butterflies, but humans are often unfamiliar with many of them because they are generally creatures of the night.
I recently found a big, lime-green colored luna moth out in the backyard.
I checked around on the cement and other available flat surfaces, and I didn't find any luna moths on this night. Instead, I encountered a bright green grasshopper on the brick side of the house.
He looked surprisingly like one of my grasshopper trout fishing lures. I ducked back into the house to grab my camera to take a picture of him.
He didn't move as I steadied my arm against the house to focus. But the flash popped up and lit up, and the grasshopper prepared himself to take off and fly.
That first shot was out of focus. I pulled back and tried again. That second shot was great. The grasshopper, which also reminded me a bit of Mr. Peanut, minus the monocle, again flexed but didn't fly.
I took the picture so that I could later learn more about the grasshopper, perhaps figuring out his species and some of his life traits.
But for now, I was focused on exploring.
I continued onward.
I soon discovered a couple of my usual nighttime friends - the varying sizes of eastern American toads.
I suspect they live during the daylight hours among the black-eyed Susan and other wildflower plants in our backyard rock garden. I had seen a couple of tiny toads in the garden over the past couple of days.
Tonight, there was one toad about the size of my thumb and another the size of a matchbox. They had both positioned themselves a few inches away from the house.
The toads almost always sit facing the house, indicating to me that this is where they are finding insects to eat.
I bade them a good evening as I took another look around the cement walkway to see if there were any more toads that I hadn't seen.
Finding none, I turned my attention to the wider surrounding area.
I heard a daytime bird of some type making single note squawks from the trees behind my neighbors' house. I say daytime bird because it sounded quite out of place among the expected sounds like nighthawks and owls.
I couldn't identify it. I even tried the Merlin bird identification app on my phone, which registered the sound, but did not return any identification.
I figured it might be something like a fledgling grackle or crow or something like that.
However, I was able to easily identify the wail of a common loon that pierced the night coming from out on the lake. The loon wailed twice and then produced its tremolo call, which is my favorite loon sound to hear.
Somewhere out there, there was also a Canada goose honking in a laughing fashion.
I moved around the side of the house to the front to check a couple of suet feeders we have attached to one of the maple trees. I took a small flashlight out of my pocket and shined it at the tree trunk.
As I expected, there was a flying squirrel nibbling away at the suet.
When I approached, the squirrel shot up the trunk of the tree in a flash. I know from past nights that if I wait patiently, the squirrels will come back down to the suet, even if I am standing only a few feet away.
They are another fascinating creature that a lot of humans haven't seen because of their nocturnal habits.
We have a bluebird house on a cedar tree in the front yard. When I walk out to get the mail, I sometimes tap on the front of the box. Out pops the head of a flying squirrel that is nesting in the box.
They have big black eyes and sandy brown faces. They are very cool and like the moths, they are underrated as familiar wild things.
I stood and listened for a few minutes for owls. I often hear them calling from a long distance away or sometimes quite close to me. Nothing tonight.
Just a dog barking way out there somewhere.
When I was a kid, it was a whole ordeal to go outside after dark.
The first thing was finding a working flashlight. We had a drawer in a metal cabinet in the back porch that had flashlights in it but often the batteries were dead or nearly that way.
The faded brightness might have still been good for picking worms, but not for seeing anything beyond that. So, then it was on to search for batteries.
We had one big chrome flashlight whose barrel was about a foot long. It took four "D" size batteries. A battery search might only turn up three new batteries.
It was then back to the battery drawer to find one of the smaller, plastic flashlights that we also used for picking worms or shining at each other, running around screaming and laughing.
If the flashlight had good batteries, it might not have a working bulb, or you might have to smack the body of the flashlight against the palm of your hand to get it to work right.
We had cheap flashlights back then. I remember gas stations would sometimes give them out free if you filled up your tank with gas.
My folks were good about letting my brother and I go outside at night to pick nightcrawlers for trout bait. We were also allowed to camp in the backyard.
We would throw a blanket over the clothesline to make a tent and put rocks on the blanket's four corners to hold the tent open. We were even allowed to use a small charcoal grill to cook hot dogs and marshmallows on.
I think it was probably because of those early experiences that I was never afraid of being outside after dark.
When I lived along Lake Superior, many years ago, there was a road that led to the highway and circled back through the woods. I used to love to walk that road at night in the pitch-black darkness.
I kept a flashlight in my pocket but rarely used it.
When my boys came to visit one summer from Los Angeles, I took them for a walk out there. They wanted us to shine the flashlight as we walked.
Being from the big city, which is largely always lit up, the blackness of the night was a huge change for them. They imagined us being attacked by various types of animals - real or not.
After a while, the boys were able to walk the road in the dark without being afraid, but it took some time for them to adjust. It makes sense.
I especially love the quiet of the nighttime. It's great to be outside after all the noise and bustle of the daytime has subsided.
There's also something about the wide-open star-covered skies that helps me relax and opens my mind up to clear and easy thinking.
Going around the last corner of the house toward the backyard again. I hear a big thud hit the ground. I flip on my flashlight and see a raccoon running across the yard, headed for the trees.
He had just been up on the bird feeder at the top of my feeding station. Racoons have often been up on the feeders, robbing suet and sunflower seeds and sometimes, taking my bird feeders with them back into the trees.
I interrupted that kind of mischief, at least for tonight.
I checked the cement again for moths and toads. I found one nicely patterned toad sitting on the deck encircled by a segment of the garden hose. He was larger than the others I'd seen earlier. His skin appeared like a handful of small pebbles.
I bade him a good evening as well.
I opened and closed the door behind me, and I flipped off the outside light.
As I put my flashlight away, I thought about what a nice respite that little outside jaunt had been. I should sleep well now. It's late
Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan's world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.